Equilibrium
by blueirony
Summary: James and Albus take it upon themselves to make sure Santa knows what they really want for Christmas.


A/N: The story goes that, when I was born, my brother was horrified. He was expecting a wicket keeper to add to his neighbourhood Cricket team, and instead he got me, a baby sister. In some ways, I think I had him in mind while writing this story. I hope you enjoy reading it.

Apologies to anyone who read an early version of this. I'm still learning how formatting works on this website and I believe that formatting caused some sentences to become very disjointed. Thank you for the patience of anyone who had to read it in that state, and apologies to you!

**Equilibrium**

_A sister is one who reaches for your hand and touches your heart. – Author Unknown_

"Ow, that hurt!"

"Shhhh!"

"But it..."

"SHHHHHHH!"

Two small pairs of eyes hesitantly peered through the railing of the cot in the dimly lit room and surveyed the small bundle lying swaddled in a pink blanket.

A few moments passed while the first pair of eyes curiously looked at the small form in the cot while the other pair looked in mild disgust.

"Is she doing dead?" asked the owner of the first pair of eyes, a two-year-old boy with dark hair that never seemed to lie flat.

"No," replied the other boy, the tone of his voice one of exasperated superiority. At three, he took it upon himself to explain the ways of the universe to his younger and much less worldly brother. "See?" he continued, pointing a chubby finger at the middle of the small body in the cot, "It's moving up and down. Look."

The younger boy looked for a few moments with a frown on his face. When he did not see any movement in the pink bundle, he grew sceptical of his older brother. Though his older brother always said he was right, he couldn't _always_ be right, could he?

"James," he said, a small crease appearing on his tiny forehead, "Nothin's happ'ning, look, she's..."

His high pitched voice was cut off when a small snort broke through the room and the small pink bundle rolled over in the cot.

"Al!" said James, rolling his eyes as much as he could in his small face. "Look what you did! What if 'ily wake up?"

Albus looked at James in confusion.

"But... she always sleepy. Even when Babbity Rabbity is on the teebee!" said Albus. The wizarding world had, in recent years, begun to slowly adopted muggle technology into its lifestyle and it had proved to be a huge success in children's entertainment, particularly in the development of television shows which took old classic characters from wizarding stories and made them into fresh new friends for wizarding children all over Britain. Albus had a particular affinity for Babbity Rabbity and never failed to tune in every day at two o'clock in the afternoon.

However James, a whole year older than Albus, was more mature and turned up his nose at the childish tales of Babbity Rabbity. He dismissed Albus's comment with a small sigh. They had more important things to worry about. The Potter boys were on a mission and James, as the older of the two, had a responsibility to make sure the mission was a success.

"If she wakes up, she'll start crying and then Mum will come. Do you want that to happen?" asked James.

Albus considered the question carefully for a few moments, biting his lip in thought as his mind struggled to weigh up the pros and cons of an angry Ginny Potter finding out how exactly her two sons had chosen to spend their afternoon.

"No," Albus finally conceded, deciding that he would rather have his Mum give him a cookie than scold him. Even if it meant that James would be in trouble, too.

"Now, shhhhh. We has to be quiet, 'k?" James said earnestly to his brother. If all went well, the two would be finished by the time their Dad got home and James loved racing Albus to the front door every night when they heard their Dad's footsteps on the tiles of the entrance to their home.

Albus nodded vigorously to show that he understood.

"Do you have the hellotape?" asked James.

Albus reached on the floor next to him and picked up a roll of Spellotape in his small hands before turning to James with a grin on his face, pleased to be asked such an important thing as being the keeper of the Spellotape. It wasn't often that Albus got to play such a crucial role in James's adventures and he felt very important with his duties that afternoon.

"Otay, I'll put the note on the cot and you put the hellotape on top of it, mmkay?" said James, looking down at his younger brother to make sure he understood. "And you hav'tuh make sure it's on tight because it has to get Santa, otay?"

"Mmkay," said Albus.

James reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a slightly wrinkled piece of parchment that he had found on his Dad's desk. Normally, he was not allowed to touch anything on his Dad's desk but this was important. Besides, James had taken one glance at the parchment and deemed it to be useless so, really, he was doing his Dad a favour by disposing of it. One side of the parchment was covered in Harry's slanted writing while the other side was covered in illegible childish scribble. James had worked hard on the note and though the note looked more like a series of squiggly lines (the only word he could properly write was his own name and, even then, he always forgot which way the 'S' faced), he knew that Santa would know what he meant. After all, he had written letters to Santa every week for weeks asking for the same thing so Santa would already know what James wanted for Christmas. His mother had posted the letters to Santa every week and while James had been worried about whether his mother could handle the enormity of such a task, she had assured him that she would personally make sure that Santa would receive each of his letters. His mother was able to calm down his Nana Molly whenever she yelled at one of his uncles, so James supposed that his mother was up to the task. But this was important and James was not going to take any chances so he had to make sure that Santa received the letter himself. James had no time for any dalliances from middlemen; there was absolutely no room for any margin of error on such an important message for Santa as this one.

"D'you have the hellotape ready?" James asked, turning to the younger brother.

"Uh-huh," said Albus, holding it up for James to see.

James took the note and pressed it to the side of the cot and nodded at Albus. Albus pressed the roll of Spellotape to the note and then let go. The roll fell to the carpeted floor with a clunk and Albus looked at it in surprise.

"Why it not stit?" asked Albus in confusion.

James sighed. Younger brothers did have their perks but they could be so annoying sometimes. He picked up the roll of the Spellotape and pulled the end up and stretched out a long piece, speaking to Albus as he did so.

"You're such a dummy! You have to pull it, see?" he said, showing Albus the stretched piece of Spellotape in his small hands.

"Don't call me dummy! Mummy say it a bad word!" said Albus, glaring at his older brother. Yes, James might be older than him, but that did not give him the right to call him such a horrid name.

"Yeah, but she also said..."

Another snort echoed through the room, followed by a small cooing sound and both boys froze and simultaneously turned to look at the cot, their eyes wide. Neither boy dared to move or make a sound.

After a few moments and, once he was sure that he was in the all clear, James turned harshly back to Albus.

"Shush, otay? We have to get this done before Cwistmas. Santa can't forget!" he whispered loudly to his brother.

Albus watched thoughtfully as James tore off a piece of Spellotape and dropped the roll to the ground once more. Sticking his tongue out one side of his mouth, he pressed the note to the cot for the second time and was about to attach the Spellotape to the note before Albus reached out a hand and shook his brother's arm.

"What?" asked James, annoyed at being so close to his goal.

"Is this bad?" asked Albus, his forehead creased in worry.

James sighed for what seemed like twentieth time in as many minutes.

"You said it was good, 'member!" he said in an irritated tone.

"But why we gib 'Ily back?" asked Albus.

"She smells funny. And she cries. And Mummy gave her your bunny and my 'nitch which is bad," James said matter-of-factly, as if it settled the matter. And, in a way, it did settle the matter. No bigger crime can be committed to a two-year-old and three-year-old than having their toys taken away from them. James could tolerate the constant crying and how his Mum now had less time to spend with him, but taking away his stuffed snitch was the last straw. James had to take a stand. This was akin to child abuse.

He had rights.

Albus was still unsure whether they were doing the right thing but he nodded when he remembered Bunny the stuffed bunny. Though he had Doggie the stuffed dog now, he still missed having his beloved Bunny with him before he went to sleep. Even though the whiskers of Bunny did sometimes itch against where they rubbed against his neck when he hugged Bunny.

James quickly smoothed the piece of Spellotape to the note and took a step back. When he was satisfied that the note would not fall off, he grinned at his younger brother. Everything had fallen into place. When Santa came down the chimney, he would see the note on Lily's cot and understand to take her back to the baby factory and replace her with two broomsticks. Both James and Albus had been very good this year and there was absolutely no reason for Santa to deny them their simple wish.

"Now Santa will see it and give us boomstitches!" he said happily to this younger brother.

Albus grinned back at James, warming up to the idea of having his own broomstick. Harry had carefully taken the boys up on his broomstick for the first time a week before and both boys had instantly loved it. But being held in your arms by your Dad while flying two feet above the ground was just not the same as flying on your own. And both boys had visions of zooming around the Potters' spacious backyard, feinting fearlessly like their Dad and scoring goal after goal like their Mum.

The two were lost in happy thoughts of finally owning their own brooms, despite their Mum's rule that they were not allowed to fly themselves until they were five years old, and stood in the darkened room with small smiles on their faces. They were startled out of their thoughts, however, when they heard a creak from downstairs, followed by three very familiar thuds and a few coughs.

Both boys turned to each other with delight on their faces and screamed in unison, "DADDY!", before hurtling out of the room and down the stairs. Their four-month-old sister awoke at their yell and, angry at being startled out of her nap, let out a cry which quickly turned into wails as she protested at being woken so suddenly. She was hushed a few moments later by a soothing voice and her cries turned into hiccupping sobs, but neither boy paid any attention to this. All they could focus on was the tired but smiling face of their Dad.

The two small boys went down the stairs as fast as their little legs could carry them, their faces bright with the joy at seeing their Dad for the first time in twelve hours.

James was the first to reach his Dad and latched himself onto his Dad's right leg with a small squeal. Albus took a few minutes longer since his small legs were shorter than James and he had to place both feet on each step as he descended down the steps (walking up and down the stairs unaccompanied by a parent was a newly acquired skill) but he soon clung to his Dad's left leg with an even louder squeal.

Harry smiled down at his sons, ruffled their hair and laughed as he tried to walk forward but couldn't. The same thing happened every day when he came home from work and, though he always felt like having nothing but a hot shower and sleeping for a week after a long day at work, he would not trade the familiar weights of his two sons for anything.

"Hi boys," Harry said, "Were you good for your Mum today?"

"Uh-huh" said James, "We made cookies, Daddy!"

Albus chose not to answer but simply burrowed his cheek further into his Dad's leg and let out a contented sigh, inhaling his father's comforting scent.

James continued chattering about his day but his voice soon trailed off when his mother walked down the stairs with a now wide awake but silent Lily in her arms. Both boys let go of their father's legs and looked at each other in panic. How was Santa supposed to know to take Lily away if she wasn't in her cot?

Harry took a few steps over to his wife, gave her a lingering kiss, whispered a few words to her which made her smile, before taking the small girl out of her arms and smiling down at his daughter's angelic face. He ran a finger over her cheek as she blinked back curiously at him before carrying her to the nearby living room and settling down with her on the couch.

"Harry," Ginny said, picking up Harry's scarf where it had fallen when he had been tackled by the two boys, "Is there a reason why a page of your latest report was stuck to Lily's cot?" she asked slowly.

Harry stopped his soft murmurings to the baby in his arms and looked at Ginny in confusion.

"No," he said, his brow furrowed. "Unless I..."

His voice trailed off as he spotted his two sons slowly trying to slink unnoticed back up the stairs.

"James," Harry said at the same time as Ginny said, "Albus."

Both boys gulped and turned meekly around to face their parents.

Ginny sighed and herded the two boys into the living room and crossed her arms before raising a manicured eyebrow.

"Well?" she asked, "What did you do?"

James and Albus looked at one another and after a silent conference, James decided to be the one to explain to his parents. Surely they would understand the importance of the matter. He did not quite know what his parents did for a living but he knew that they were always stopped on the streets whenever they went out so they must be both very smart people. There was simply no other explanation for all the people wanting to talk to his parents. His Dad had once told him about the squiggly line on his forehead but a small part of James was still convinced that his Dad had drawn on his face in permanent ink just to make the bedtime story more real.

"Me 'nd Al want Santa to take 'ily back to the baby factory and give us boomstitches," he said, ignoring the slightly baffled glances his parents stole at one another.

A few seconds passed where the only person in the room who moved was Lily who amused herself by blowing bubbles and gurgling slightly, unaware of the confused look on her father's face, a looked mirrored on her mother's face.

"But, James, mate, what does that have to do with my report?" Harry finally asked, absent-mindedly adjusting the tiny beanie covering his daughter's red hair.

"It wasn't me," Albus piped up suddenly. "James said Santa see the note 'nd take 'ily back and give me Bunny back and a boomstitch!"

His parents stared at him while they mentally deciphered the words in their heads, translated it back into plain English and then filled in the blanks.

"So you wrote a letter to Santa and put it on Lily's crib?" asked Ginny, fighting a smile. She knew she really should be stern with her boys, but it was so difficult not to laugh when they reminded her of what she was like when she was younger. When both boys nodded, she sighed and gestured for the two to join her on the opposite end of the couch to where Harry was sitting with Lily in his arms.

When both boys were cuddled close to their mother and she had one arm around each of them, Ginny spoke to them softly, "Boys, you know that Santa can't take Lily away, don't you?"

"But we wrote a letter to Santa," said James, "You promised he read them! You _promised_!" James turned an accusing gaze to his mother as he said this. How could she have failed to go through on such an important task as giving Santa their letters?

Harry let out a small laugh which quickly turned into a cough at his wife's sharp glare and he busied himself with offering a finger for Lily to grasp her small fingers around.

"Oh, love," said Ginny, fondly, "I know it's been hard ever since we bought Lily home but she's your sister and you have to be a big brother to her, just like you are to Al."

"But she's a _girl_," James said, in disgust.

This time, even Ginny couldn't contain her laughter and ducked her head to hide her grin. It looked like it was time for a story. Ginny ran her fingers through both her sons' hair and waited for them to settle once more against her before she began.

"You know your uncle Ron tried to send me back when I was little," she said, sharing a grin with Harry. He had heard the story one memorable night at the Burrow when Molly had become extremely wistful and started telling him all the stories she could of her children growing up. Still to this day, Harry had never fully told her brothers which stories he knew about them and Ginny knew he was waiting for the perfect moment to unleash his carefully stored ammunition in the form of blackmail.

"Yes, he decided that he didn't like me and even got to the front yard with me before your Nana Molly stopped him." She had always marvelled as to how a two-year-old Ron had managed such a feat but she supposed that was what happened when you had seven children under the one roof. She didn't know how her mother had done it.

"_You_?" asked Albus, completely amazed. "But you're Mummy!" James said nothing but simply blinked owlishly at his mother as his brain tried to process this staggering piece of news.

Both Potter parents took a few moments to compose themselves after giving into their laughter at the utterly gobsmacked looks on their sons' faces before Ginny continued.

"Yes, he tried to send me back for more Chocolate Frog cards," said Ginny, silently thanking her mother for giving birth to the six biggest idiots to ever walk planet Earth. They may have made her childhood difficult, but their stupidity did make parenting easy when it came to situations such as this one. "And do you think that would have been a good idea?"

"No," said James, emphatically while Albus shook his head.

"I know you think you want Lily to go away but she is your sister and you have to look after her. But," Ginny said, as she decided to change direction to the one thing she knew would get her sons to listen to her, "If you want her to go away, then I guess we'll just have to give your presents from Lily to someone else, won't we Harry?" Ginny winked at her husband when she said this.

"We could always give them to Hugo," said Harry airily, smiling inwardly at the stunned looks on the boys' faces.

A few seconds passed while both boys comically alternated between looking at their parents who kept impossibly straight faces throughout the exchange, save for a slight twitching of Harry's mouth.

"'ily's going to give _us_ presents?" asked James incredulously, as if the thought of his sister doing anything beyond making his life miserable was beyond his comprehension.

"Of course she is," Ginny said, poking James in the side until he squealed. "And you know you have to give her a present, too! Do you have any ideas about what you want to get her, hmm?" she said, now poking Albus as well until she had both boys squirming against her as they both dissolved into laughter when Ginny's poking turned to playful tickling.

Ginny let the boys recover after a few minutes of play while she watched her husband rock their daughter gently in his arms. She knew that her boys were young and still probably had very little idea about who, exactly, this small red-headed person was and why she demanded so much of their parents' attention, but she knew that they were smart boys and would one day love their sister just as much as her own brothers loved her. She just hoped for Lily's sake that they would be a little bit less protective.

"Mummy?" A small voice interrupted her musings.

"Yes," she said, turning down to her younger son.

"Tan I get 'ily somefing from the kidditch sop?" asked Albus sweetly, his green eyes pleading with her.

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes when Harry stopped rocking Lily and looked up when he heard the word 'Quidditch'.

Like father, like sons.

And 'like mother, like sons', if she was truly honest with herself. Harry wasn't the only one who hoped for there to be three Potters dominating the Quidditch teams at Hogwarts one day.

Ginny's heart melted at the hopeful look on her youngest son's face and sighed. Though she tried to follow her mother's advice of not giving in to every one of her children's demands, it was hard when they looked at her so beseechingly.

"Yes, love, we'll go there tomorrow morning and see what we can find," she said, letting out a laugh as her two sons both jumped up in excitement and began excitedly chattering about their trip tomorrow.

Keeping one careful eye on her sons and making sure they didn't crash into the glass coffee table just a few inches away from their hyperactive bodies, she exchanged a smile with her husband as the two revelled in the joy of their children. They may be more effort than either of them could had ever imagined, but she knew that neither her or Harry would change a single thing about their children.

A shrill cry rang through the air as James jumped back onto the couch and jostled Lily, much to her displeasure, and Ginny sighed.

Apart from that.

FIN


End file.
